Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and FlowerChapter 36: Lullaby
Blackness. And then voices speaking from the dark. First, an old woman, her voice cracked with age.
"An orphan boy in a bone pile far, far from home," she cooed.
And then another voice, deeper and more melodious, "Methinks he wants his mother, but he left her body to burn with all the others."
"Now he pretends to be a monster with his orphan friends," giggled another, younger voice. "But they aren't monsters, are they, Sisters?"
"The strigoi-viu told all the little boys a lie," said the old woman.
"That to be a man, you must be a monster," said the second voice.
Takri felt a soft hand upon his bare shoulder.
"Not all believe his lie," whispered the younger voice in his ear.
Takri turned, trying in vain to see the source of the voice. But there was nothing but darkness.
"Leave me, my Sisters. I have wounds to tend," said the old woman.
"We shall wait for your light in the evening sky," said the second voice.
"Morning Star becomes Day Star. Day Star becomes Evening Star. So it has been and so it will be," said the third voice.
The darkness resumed its silence.
"Did you hear that?" whispered Takri.
"Nothing but you," said Jacu. "We need light. It must be later than I thought for the sun to set so quickly."
"It's too wet to light anything now," said Takri. "I'm going to try and make it to the hut. There was a fire there before."
As if on command, a light flared in the distance and then dimmed before it began bobbing towards them. This was not like any torch or lantern Takri had come across in his life. The light appeared to flow from two holes set in a sphere. As the light came closer, it changed. The two holes in the sphere became the eyes in a skull which burned with the same intensity as a torch. Under the skull, a small, hunched figure was wrapped in peasant garb the same color as the fog. She leaned heavily upon her skull-topped staff as she approached the small group of princes.
"Jacu, do you see that?" asked Takri, pointing at the ghostly figure. His friend turned pale and nodded.
"A Zorya." Jacu looked down at Lod, now lying unconscious against his friend. "Do we leave him? Lod's as good as dead either way. I say we run?"
A loud cracking noise sounded through the fog, followed by the sound of shattering ice. Followed by another, and another. As Jacu had predicted, the ice was becoming too heavy for the tree branches to hold.
"We wait," said Takri. "Where can we run? Back through the icy forest?"
Another crack of breaking wood split through the eerie silence as if to punctuate Takri's statement. The woman and her death light approached close enough now for them to hear the lullaby she softly sang to herself as she walked.
Sleep, sleep, my sweet tiny baby
Sleep, sleep, my sweet little boy
Till morning becomes day, my sweet tiny baby
Till day becomes evening, my sweet little boy
When you grow bigger
When you grow strong
When you awaken, child of the Mother
Out of the night, my sweet little boy*
Jacu was already asleep. Takri shook his head, struggling to stay awake. Deep inside an insurmountable mountain of exhaustion threatened to consume him. The mountain built of every day spent in the desert camp, every night spent in a tent with bloodthirsty strangers sleeping beside him, each moment since he had lost his family and tribe to the sword and spear of the strigoi-viu. He was tired beyond caring if he lived or died. Before he succumbed to sleep, he saw the crone leaning over Lod's inert form, one hand on his wound, and the other still wrapped around her deathly lamp.
*lyrics inspired by an old Romanian lullaby "Nani Nani." The song can be heard here: Nani Nani
Vasi followed the silk filament further up the mountain, stumbling across rocks and lichen. She emerged from the fog as the setting sun turned the clouds below her pink and orange then deep purple as night fell. Above her, the sky glittered with stars. She should have succumbed to cold long before, but the air around her was warm and soft like a spring day after a rain. She could smell the ocean in the wind as it swept down from the rocky peaks above her, ruffling her hair and swirling her red robes around her
She felt free. For the first time in a decade, she was free. Free from the servitude in the Swarm's camps as they marched across forest and desert and savannahs deep with grass. Free from the grasp of filthy men. Free from the threat of rape and death around every corner. Free from scrubbing blood from the floors and walls and bath of Mahleck.
She felt the knife in her belt. What was it the old woman had said?
...the knife that tasted the heart blood of the strigoi-viu.
What did that mean? Strigoi-viu?
It couldn't mean the Queen. The way the woman said the words "strigoi-viu", it did not refer to Queen Mila. Those words meant something vile. Vasi was sure of it. The Queen had died a hero, of that Vasi had no doubt. She herself pulled the woman's naked body from the steaming bath that night. There were no wounds other than the ones she always saw on Mahleck's prey. Cuts to the wrists and thigh slicing open veins, cuts to the neck where the arteries lay close to the surface. Never a wound to the heart. He liked to play with his victims so he could watch their life slip away into the water or his bedclothes.
She shook herself free of the memory and brought herself back to the desolate mountain top warm with ocean winds.
The moon rose in the east, bright enough to cast the shadows of both Vasi and the thread she followed on the rocks below them. Ahead of her she could see the thread glistening in the moonlight, and further along, an outcropping of jagged granite.
"Where are you, voice?" asked Vasi, as she reached the end of the thread, which seemed to lead directly into the heart of the rock.
I will lead you, little one.
Vasi looked up towards the source of the voice where a small spider dangled from a web silver with sparkling dew.
Come, I will show you Her ways.
Find your way!
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